Game of Wolves
by Souseiki no Tasogare
Summary: Arya has just finished her training at the House of Black and White and gets her first contract out of Bravos, in Westeros. Once there she must cope with the betrayal of her pack and those she thought she could trust, while at the same time hiding everything about who she is. The Others are coming, secrets are revealed and lies brought to the light. Slow burning Gendrya
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **Arya has just finished her training at the House of Black and White and gets her first contract out of Braavos and will leave for Essos. Once there she must cope with the betrayal of her pack and those she thought she could trust, while at the same time hiding everything about who she is. The Others are coming, secrets are revealed and lies brought to the light. The last of the Starks begin to converge, question is: will they reunite or end up killing the ones they love? Will Westeros even survive the outcome? **(That felt lame, leave a comment and tell me if it snags attentions)**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, places, or whatnot created by GRRM. Everything else that is not covered by his copyright is hopefully fresh ideas from my lovely mind. Sorry if something is similar to something you may have read or written, but I am not doing it on purpose and I am very much trying to be original. If I was making money off of this, it would in no way be on fanfiction. 'Nough said.

**Warning:** This had been rated** M** because I like to be detailed, so I will mention: blood, definite gore, vulgar language, and mature situations throughout the chapters. You no like? You leave.

**A/N: Okay, so I'll admit that I'm not current in the books. My cut off for cannon in this fic is A Dance with Dragons, so everything else will be made up in my own super special way. And don't expect super regular updates, I'll try but I work a lot. Plus this story is actually for my own pleasure so I intend to finish it at my own rate cause it makes me feel super awesome.**

**And while I am a more than willing Gendrya shipper, I can't just have them meet and fall in love as soon as Arya steps onto Westeros. Sorry, this is going to be a slow burning romance that will have only one sided Gendry/Arya at the beginning (Up to chapter 10 or so) which will blossom slowly and much later into a raging inferno. There is so little evidence of this pairing in book and show that I want to work up to it in a more realistic way. Besides, he practically betrayed her; she will not forgive so easily. That doesn't seem like an Arya trait**

**Concerning the theory of Gendry being Cersei and Robert's true child, I'm tearing that apart at the seams. Sorry. I'm going to call author's bullshit and use his unknown mom to my advantage. And I don't really want him to be any kind of king…. Not in this story at least. **

**The first couple chapters will be lacking in major characters, they will mostly just be there to set the mood of the story and give you a sort of taste test if you will. So dig in and read, leave a review if you will and criticize to your heart's content. Pointers would be very welcome.**

**Let's see, if I haven't scared you off yet, I'd like to mention my last point. I want to switch views in this story. The POV's will consist of badass killer Arya (and her super nice and sweet cover Lilienne), confused and at a loss Gendry, protective and understanding Jon, and maybe a surprise. Not sure on the last one. I'll figure it out when I get there. Some of the chapters will have multiple point of views.**

** . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . **

Mercy glanced at the many faces, all hidden deep within the House of Black and White. Her eyes wandered across the drawn skin and eyeless sockets, searching for the identity she would take for her next kill. It had to be just right, nothing her target would find suspicious or otherwise notable. The Faceless Men had allowed her the opportunity to choose for herself. It would be hard; her target was a cautious man that had proven to see a few previous attempts to end his life. Of course, none of the would-be killers had been a Faceless Man, as Mercy almost was.

It had been a few good years since she had made to Braavos, gaining a reputation amongst the other assassins as she slowly excelled in her training. She was now a woman of four-and-ten, and neither had her first Moon's blood or lost her maidenhead. And she had gained a slight womanish figure, curving just right even if some considered her lacking. But her lithe body and long legs still attracted eyes when she was on the streets, especially if she wore a dress or fitted tunic.

And she needed to find a face that could work with her body, to hide her true face. It was one thing to occasionally be spotted with the blatant Stark features here in one of the greatest of the free cities, where many faces passed without recognizing the once thought dead noble girl. No, they just appreciated beauty and one or two had once mistaken her for a Courtesan. Yet, once she reached Westeros as her contract demanded, she could not even conceive the risk of such stupidity. A dead girl walking was bound to gather attention.

So she looked, looked hard for the right face. Something thin, older but still young enough to catch the eyes of men easily. Then she found it, a face she was somewhat familiar with. It held a creamy glow associated with those that spent time in the sun often and had long bronze tresses waving around a delicate face. If Mercy remembered hard enough, the obvious beauty of this lowborn woman had been the death of her when she had been seized by drunkards and supposedly raped in an alley from dusk till dawn. Only hours later had the girl crawled towards the alters and in front of the fountain of poison and begged to be given the "gift". Receive it she did, Mercy had watched as the girl's brilliant green eyes had faded.

Mercy did the simple ritual to apply her face to create her new identity. She moved her face and tried the many expressions until she was familiar with what was comfortable. Nothing but slight smiles and grins felt right with this face, something Mercy herself had not felt comfortable with for so long. Not for a very long time, not since such a great betrayal so long ago when she was left alone, to fester in her hate and rage.

All her grudges were buried deep inside of her with all her memories and thoughts and emotions as one Arya Stark, just not enough. Though she was No One, from No Where, she couldn't lock away her blood, which gave her the wolf at night whilst she slept. It appeared that just that one connection with Nymeria kept her true face at the forefront of her mind. No matter how she tried the dreams kept Arya Stark from truly dying, even if she was weak and silent most of the time.

As she made for her room, Mercy was stopped by the Kindly man. "Ah, beautiful girl. May we have a word?"

He spoke in the Common Tongue of Westeros, something he only ever did when he wished to conceal something from the rest of the prying ears. She led the way to her room, where she packed poisons and her favored weapons to prepare for the journey. The Kindly Man stopped her as she was about to seal her pack.

"Take anything you find of value child, this will be the last time you venture these halls. It is not hard to see it in your eyes, No One is not truly No One, but a woman far from home." Mercy stiffened at his words, carefully watching him as he continued. "Fear not, the Many-Faced God has use of you elsewhere."

Mercy nodded, and at his knowing glance, she retrieved Needle. "The contract is still sacred?"

"Yes, be swift with it and strike down none other. Blindness was a warning to you once. Him of Many Faces will find you in his halls should you fail your last rite."

"The end of Mercy shall be swift and painless, and with it Arya Stark will rise as if the Red God had kissed her."

He left then, a gentle hand on her shoulder as she took the last of her few belongings. "If a girl returns, maybe she be a Courtesan yet."

The next morning saw Mercy, now a shy mess of a girl called Lilienne, approaching the docks in an intricate but conservative green dress. Her hair was braided carefully and over the shoulder to rest upon swollen breasts. One silver bracelet encircled her wrist and was set with stone, precious and in the shape of a seahorse. A pack and coin purse the only thing in her visible possession.

Some sailors leered at her from their ships, while others watched in hopes that she'd make way for their vessels. All became disappointed when she reached the docks of a large ship that she knew was heading for Westeros. Many of the deckhands were moving large crates into the hull and glanced her way occasionally. Only when she approached one of the men in charge did she garner more obvious attentions.

"Sir, I was wondering if I could board your ship and be brought to Westros with you." Lilienne said, her eyes fluttering as she bit her lip. "If it helps I have coin."

He was gruff and shook his head in disapproval, "We have no room on our ship and are a trading ship, not some passenger ferry for the folk."

Lilienne widened her eyes and reached into her coin pouch and pulled the heaviest of the coins, palmed so that none of the onlookers could glimpse it. She stepped forward and pressed the iron into the man's hands. When he made to drop the coin, Lilienne stepped in closer, cupping her hands around his own to further block the view of the deckhands. Her breath ghosted out pleading to those at a distance, as if she was begging. But the man stiffened as she let out two soft words filled with all the command that a king could wield.

"Valar morghulis."

"Valar dohaeris" was his quiet reply, and yet louder for those waiting "I think we can come to an arrangement. Come with me to meet the captain."

Work continued and Lilienne shuffled onto the boat, a relieved smile plastered across her face. "I thank you, kind ser."

The talk with the captain was brief and Lilienne had her demands met. With a simple introduction of her name, and both of theirs, she was given the quarters of one of the higher ranking men. And when she told them that she was not to be disturbed when in her room since it was a private matter, they hastily agreed and got the message to remain quiet to their crew of her position. The fear they had for her made them set off shortly after, with panicked haste the ship was leaving Braavos and passing across the Narrow Sea.

That night when she went up to the mess hall, many of the young men tried to strike a conversation with her. All questions were redirected or answered with a flush to the face and a short answer. None of the men suspected her true nature and that was how she preferred it. And when they got pushy, Lilienne gave an imploring gaze to the captain who immediately told the men that if they had time to talk that they had time to work.

For the next two months the crew got the hint that the lovely girl amongst them was not to be disturbed. She made a few coin by tricking the men into playing games that she had mastered long ago. A few seemed to have a suspicious and slightly fearful look in their eyes, but they never acted or talked on any of their beliefs.

By the end of the two months that it took to cross the Narrow Sea and reach Gulltown, Arya was more than impatient. The impatience though never bleed into her new persona, that face was nothing but pleasant to the men on the ship. A few men even called out to her in Braavossi as she was rowed to shore, telling her to take care and be careful.

With her small bag she continued on past the streets and towards one of the local inns. The bustling people on the streets spoke much of how well this city still thrived. Even more so when the bar keeper of the inn said all rooms had been taken. So she left the crowds toward the edge of the city, knowing full well that she was to stay in the near middle of the street and far from the winding alleys and spaces between buildings. She finally made it to a brothel, located closer to the edge of town and the finer streets. A woman was clearly being fucked from the second floor and smiled at Lilienne when she spotted her. In return Lilienne grimaced in distaste but made her way inside.

At the bar was a scantily clad woman, a man's hand inside her shirt and fondling a teat as he leaned in close and appeared to be whispering something to the woman. Lilienne approached the two and the woman's eyes caught sight of her. She moved away from the man and appraised the girl, much to the grumbling of the man who moved off to a more accepting woman.

"And what brings something like ya here; with such looks I say highborn. And ya no looks of any highborn round these parts." Her voice was husky and spoke in nearly a purr. "Looking for a job pretty girl? I assure ya we have no shortage of man here."

Lilienne blushed and shook her head in the negative. "No mam, just for room and a meal for the morrow. There was no room at the inn and they told me to arrive her for boarding."

"Ah, and ya have coin to afford this? If not I'm sure we can agree on another form of payment." The woman looked hopeful and leaned forward, her tits falling out and over a bent arm.

"I have coin mam, and just the room and food would be plentiful." Lilienne reached into her coin pouch and pulled a few pennies and showed the copper coins to the whore. "Will this be enough?"

"Yes," She pocketed the coins and started walking towards the stairs. "Shame, I bet ya'd be a screamer. Wouldn't mind that if I got ta hear that delicious accent as a man fucked you good."

The woman opened the door to an empty room and motioned back towards the way they had come. "If ya in need of food girl come down to the tables. And if I may ask ya name, case ya change ya mind for company?"

"Lilienne, mam. Of the house Rosswaters of Essos." She said.

The whore pursed her lips, "I ain't heard of no house, but look for Kendrell if you change ya mind Lilienne."

When the whore had wandered off, Lilienne closed her door and scowled before she moved to the straw mat in the corner of the small room. She shifted her dress over her head and ran a hand over the light armor. Specially made boots went halfway up her calves and hid her breeches and a few daggers. The tunic was just tight enough that the conservative dress she wore hid it easily, along with her spare coin pouch and Needle. Her one true companion since leaving from Winterfell all those years ago.

An ache in her heart warned her that her memories were attempting to resurface. She kept her iron will and stopped any unbridled thoughts from taking hold. Those would be saved for later when she slept and dreamt her wolf dreams. For now she would be occupied with honing her last gift. Her last reminder of home: her once family that had dwindled to the two outcasts. The lone wolves of the once pack. Just a wild girl and her bastard brother.

And as the last of the sun set, Arya bolted her door shut and lay for the night. Needle clutched in her hand and flush to her naked side, in case she was awoken to unwanted guests. As her eyes shut, before the wariness inside her took, the howls were heard. It was louder than anything she could ever remember, fierce but she knew it was a cry of welcome. Far away it sounded, but as loud as if a pack surrounded her.

When she opened her eyes, Nymeria's pack was at all her sides. They joined her in song and greetings to her littermate, her human. She had reached the shores from the lands across the sea and was home. Forgiveness welled in her cries, as she told her human that she knew why. Why her direwolf partner was forced away. And the thrum of revenge turned the pleasant song into nearly a feral snarl.

It was time for a hunt. Her cousins felt the stir in their alpha and took off into the night's cold grasp. Snow silenced their running as they ran faster and faster towards those fires the men used to warm their furless skins. When the pack neared, Nymeria slowed and slunk into her hunting crouch, teeth bared as she padded towards the only awake prey in the clearing ahead. And then she was behind him and the man stiffened when her frozen breath ghosted on his neck. Before he made a sound, his head was between her fangs and she broke his skull in.

Blood splattered and the crunch woke a few men, who had little time to react to the cousins that fell upon the easy meals. Their shiny claws found no purchase on the stronger predators as they made quick work. When Nymeria set upon the last living member of this infernal pack of man she gave a triumphant huff and tore through the red and gold coats of her prey. The hot flesh had yet to cool and left her satisfied as she rendered an arm from the corpse and feasted.

And then she was aware of the other men approaching. The men did not have the red or gold of her favorite prey, or the joined stone pillars that took her littermate from her. Her first pack. No, these men stopped dead when her dozens of cousins stood by her and barred their fangs on these intruders. They had their sharp silver claws drawn and ready for the fight.

Arya noticed that these men had no banners or coats of arms on their persons, and forced Nymeria to stop inching forward. She did, and then the rest of the pack stopped too, growling at the men and telling them to flee. Arya made Nymeria look into the leader's eyes and stare him down, daring for a battle that these men would surly lose. She had many, many more cousins in the wood hunting down the stone men and the red and gold men with the fluffy cats on their banners.

The leader motioned for his pack to slowly back away, and Nymeria watched as Arya let them. Arya looked from man to man but seemed dissatisfied when she did not find a specific male. And Nymeria settled down and continued with her meal, the soft, fatty flesh nearly gone. Her cousins did the same and soon only a few bones were left to show of the demise to this weak little pack.

Then she was running over fallen trees and deep patches of snow, panting as her pack followed with their bellies full of man flesh. The only ones, seeing as many of her cousins feared the small man beasts. Each one running with her was more than happy to feed on the two legs when given the chance, but only when their alpha led them.

With a skid she stopped atop a cliff that over looked much of her hunting grounds, from the large river in the distance to one side and the distant lake at the other. The moon shone brightly from where it began to sink across the horizon, and Nymeria gave a howl to her pack. All of them joined in, singing for the last time that night. Such pleasant sounds had not been heard in many a year. Those years were a time to morn for not only for the loss of her littermate, but for the loss of her Arya's own pack and littermates. But now was time to sing and let the prey know that her mate of the soul was home to take the life from those that had wronged.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, places, or whatnot created by GRRM. Everything else that is not covered by his copyright is hopefully fresh ideas from my lovely mind. Sorry if something is similar to something you may have read or written, but I am not doing it on purpose and I am very much trying to be original. If I was making money off of this, it would in no way be on fanfiction. 'Nough said.

**Warning:** This had been rated** M** because I like to be detailed, so I will mention: blood, definite gore, vulgar language, and mature situations throughout the chapters. You no like? You leave.

**A/N: I had this one done pretty quick and wanted to get it out, read, fav, review. Thanks!**

**Oh, and I would like to mention that the Arya and Lilienne mentions are deliberate. Lilienne is the sweet sheltered highborn. Arya the calculating killer and wounded she-wolf. The mention of Lilienne will end towards the next chapter.**

When Lilienne woke, she found her door undisturbed and everything in its place. She stretched and put on her clothes. It was high time that she had made way across Westeros and to the Stone Hedge.

Kendrell was once again behind the bar and was locked at the lips with a woman, who had a man's hands up her skirts. Lilienne looked away and tried to look as uncomfortable as possible. It had been so very long since she had been uncomfortable with the naked bodies of people or any form of fucking. But her face was not and she made an effort to care.

When she made it to the tables a serving boy was already at her side and asking if she required the morning meal. Lilienne nodded and smiled sweetly at the boy, who gave her a look and walked off to the kitchens. He returned with a bowl of thick soup and asked if she needed anything else. She paused and asked the boy where some stables were that were willing to offer some horses. He told her and left with a nod when Lilienne presented him with a penny.

By the time she had left, the sun was already above the horizons and the city folk were moving in the trade streets. She turned from them and made way to the city gate, looking this way and that as she took in the sights like the foreigner she pretended to be. At the gates a stable boy spotted her approach and moved to inform his master.

His neck was adjourned with a shackled collar and Lilienne was aware that the man here must have bartered at some point with the slavers of Essos. The boy's master arrived shortly, with a large unsightly woman arguing at his side. While others would assume the knight to be an awkward man, Lilienne knew that beneath that face was a woman that at one point may have impressed her solely for the fact that she was a woman.

"Can I help you girl?" The man looked her up and down before he glared at the insistent knight. "And I heard you the first time woman. There has been no man of that description in these parts nor any girl. The Hound hasn't come by with no Stark, at least not through these gates. Now leave!"

Lilienne put upon a confused and slightly put upon face. The stable master looked at her and ignored the indigent knight. "Now, tell me what need of me you have milady."

"I need a horse ser, I'm traveling to The Stone Hedge to meet distant family. If coin is what you need it is coin I have." She looked towards the stable and glanced at a few of the many horses. "I wish for something fast."

The stable master narrowed his eyes, "And you know how to ride? Don't you have somebody to travel with you?"

"No ser. I'm afraid that my body guard fell overboard while at sea and was never recovered. And I didn't want to go all the way back home after such a trip." Lilienne admitted sheepishly. "But my cousin shall be waiting for me at the crossroads at in inn. He expects me in a month good ser. And I've been riding since a small lass across my father's lands in Essos."

"Is that so? Well as it happens I have a strong mare that will get you there quick enough. But it'd cost you a silver moon." His eyes looked predatory and Lilienne knew to be wary. Anything that this man offered was to be inspected before the trade of coin.

The knight at his side spoke out. "That would be robbery! No horse is worth a moon unless it is of a lord's stables."

He glared at the knight, turning to face her. "And what do you know of my horses? They are the finest you can get in this city and the only place to get them. I can charge as I please."

"If I may have a look at her then ser." Lilienne piped up before the situation could get heated. "I can judge if she is worth such coin."

"Fine, fine." He led her to the stables and motioned to a white and grey marbled mare. "That would be her. She's fit and can run for miles before tiring. A cross between a warhorse and a hunting horse she was."

Indeed, the horse robust. It looked very strong willed though, as if it hadn't yet been broken and Lilienne immediately knew now why the man was so willing to sell this particular horse with that look in his eyes. This horse would buck and run uncontrollably. If it's rearing at the stable boy was anything to go by as he tried to bring her over to them.

Lilienne walked up to the mare a few steps and made a show of looking the horse for flaws. "I'll take her. Does she have a saddle?"

"Yes, a pleasure doing business with you miss." He easily took her coin and motioned for the stable boy to prepare the horse for her.

The boy had trouble and was only just able to get the horse ready. It reared suddenly and the boy fell to the ground from the sudden movement. Arya skinchanged with the mare in the moment of panic and enforced her will upon the beast, making it move toward her. She left it and returned to her body just as the boy shot up to help her, but was left silent like his master when the horse snuffled at her hair harmlessly.

Lilienne smiled prettily at the boy and led the horse out into the sun. She fastened her pack to one side of the horse and climbed up the other. She sat sidesaddle, with the horse trotting at a decent gait as she tested the reigns and saddle for any problems. When she came to a stop in front of the knight she nodded her head and gave a pleasant smile to her.

"Thank you for being concerned about my coin and welfare, kind lady." Lilienne pat the horse's neck and felt the fine hairs. "I am Lilienne of house Rosswaters. And you are?"

"Brienne of Tarth, my lady." She nodded her head in Lilienne's direction as she mounted her own horse. "And I cannot allow you to travel these roads alone. I must head back in the way that you are traveling and insist that you allow me to accompany you."

Arya paused and thought it through as best she could. This woman bared a shield with a coat of arms that she was unfamiliar with, with no banner in sight. To trust her would be risky, but she sensed that this face had no real way of hiding lies. An honest woman. So she risked it. Not like she couldn't kill to protect herself.

"I'd be honored for you to accompany me. But I must insist that we leave immediately" And she started towards the gates of Gulltown.

For the next few weeks they rode, with little to worry about. No thieves or rogues stopped them as the Vale opened up to them as they made it over the peninsula. They stopped at a few inns along the way, with Brienne always asking of the Hound and Lady Sansa only to get a negative answer. Arya was curious about this; as such rumors couldn't have been true. She had been with the hound as he lay dying, and unless he had been taken in by somebody, he was surely dead at the tree where she left him to die painfully.

Instead she asked a few innocent questions to see about the situation concerning Westeros these days. It appeared, as she learned, that there was still unrest in the lands and that there was a Lady Stoneheart running the Brotherhood without Banners. They actively sought out those that had anything with the "Red Wedding" or the Lannisters. Arya honestly couldn't complain, each man would find their way onto her blade.

Everything else though was enough to trouble her, if only because it concerned her old home of the North and its heart of Winterfell. Last that she remembered she had married nobody, especially not some Balton. Yet another lie of the disgraced once queen it seemed.

Brienne slowly grew on Lilienne, if only a little for the very masculine woman and her loyalty. If what she heard was truth, than it appeared the late Lady Stark had acquired Brienne after the death of Renly Baratheon and convinced the female knight to find the lost Stark daughters. She was met with no success, as Arya knew she most certainly wasn't found and her sister was the knight's current mission.

Just a week away from the inn at the crossroads, they made it to the remains of the Saltpan. It had been sacked and ravaged and only a few dozen people were occupying it. Arya remembered it, while not much better back then, as still looking less dead than it did now. Burned remains of houses were present and few people tried to even acknowledge the two as they passed through.

And when asked, these people had no memories of the Stark girls. Which was good enough for Arya, if Brienne learned of her true identity before she had finished her contract, her life would be all the harder. Her target was necessary to be dead before any sort of reveal of herself was to be made. That was the sole condition that the Kindly Man had set if she were to return to Westeros.

They continued their journey after that, without Brienne asking anymore of the Hound or Lady Sansa. And for the next week they traveled this time being accosted by a few men that fancied themselves as brutes. Brienne had made quick work of the three, and Lilienne became a blubbering and grateful girl.

Even if she could have killed the three men just as easily if not more so.

When she reached the inn at the crossroads, she bid farewell to Brienne telling her that she would wait for her cousin. Brienne was reluctant but told the girl that she would be heading to Riverrun and if she ever made it that far, to inform the knight that she was good and well. Lilienne agreed and ventured into the building when she was sure that Brienne was long gone.

The inn itself looked like it may have been the site of a battle since she had last been there. When questioned, this inn had been ransacked at least two times and had traded from more than a few hands since then. Grooves left by bladed weapons were in the stone walls and a scorch mark or two could be seen opposite of some windows. There was no doubt in her mind about some of the stories that were told in the mess hall as she paid for her room.

It was as she was putting her horse in the stables that she glimpsed _him_. In the light of the fires emitting from the smithy was none other than Gendry. He'd grown still since she'd last seen him, just before she was taken in the rain by the hound. If anything he was taller and wider with muscle, well-toned from the constant hammering of a blacksmith and the swords use by a knight, he was without question a man now. His beard was there, neat and thin and curled around his hardened face that lacked the typical grin or stupid stubborn set that she once remembered. But she knew without a doubt that it was him, the bastard blacksmith that she had traveled with.

And by the Many-Faced God, did it hurt to see this member of her pack. The one who left her to join the Brotherhood to be a smith instead a smith for her dead brother. When she needed his stupid presence in the night her brother and mother died, he was with the brotherhood to be knighted. He left her, the last of her pack left her alone. Hurt and rage and betrayal burned inside of her just at the mere notion that he was here as if nothing had ever happened. How she wanted to go in there and hurt him like he had her.

She shook her head and forced her eyes closed, turning away from the forge. She breathed deep and remembered her training from the House of Black and White. Slowly Arya Stark disappeared. It didn't matter that a bull was in the forge. She was Lilienne, waiting for her cousin to get her and take her to the Stone Hedge. Not a highborn girl on the run or a hostage for her family to pay for. And then she blinked and walked calmly towards the inn and didn't look back.

Gendry watched after the highborn turned from the forge. She had the strangest look of horror and pain on her face before she had turned. He gave it little thought as he finished with the armor he had between his hammer and the anvil. It gleamed and he looked it over for any imperfection, making sure he left it to cool on one of the benches.

Micah, his apprentice, brought in more water for cooling. "Are we done today?"

"We only need to wait for the armor to cool before any of it can go back to the Brotherhood." Gendry left his tools on the bench beside him and made for the inn. "We can get started on arrowheads 'morrow after the others have woken."

Micah nodded and made for the baths, while Gendry made for his room. Soot and sweat was not a new occurrence for his straw mat. After the first year he didn't bother anymore. Not unless he was going to bed a woman, which wasn't often. Once or twice a year at most. And even then it wasn't like the girls were bothered either.

His clothes were discarded and he lay down and felt just a bit cold, even beneath his skins. After nearly four years he still missed the bit of warmth that once lay next to him. At first, when he had though Arry a boy, he'd assumed that it was what he'd feel when he knew a younger brother was warm and safe by his side. Then when he found out she was a girl, it had easily slid into the protectiveness he assumed was for younger sisters.

Wrong though. Because he remembers that one day, that day he'd seen her in the acorn dress and had wrestled her into the dirt. Something inside of him nearly growled out when he'd have her pinned for just a second before she was squirming away. Something that was not reserved for sisters or brothers. And then he knew and couldn't even bare it. Not only was she just a child, but she was a highborn and him the lowly bastard. Nothing would ever come of that situation.

So he'd taken an easy way out. There had been no way he could walk up to her brother, the King of the North and ask to remain at her side. Not when he knew she would just be wed off to a lord. He couldn't live with that in any form as another man eventually would take her. Gendry turned to the Brotherhood in his desperation.

They'd made him a knight of the Hollow Hill. Al lot of good that had been, because Arya had run off into the pouring rain and had never returned. All that had been heard was a scream, something that chilled him to the very bones. And when the men went to look for her, there were no tracks as the rain had washed it away. No way to find her.

By the gods it had nearly killed him when he found out the one person he honestly wanted to protect had been taken in the night. Then the Freys had turned on the Starks and Northerners, slaughtering them all like rabid dogs. He'd felt the furry for her, and knew if she ever discovered what had happened she'd be beyond devastated. And when Lady Stoneheart had gained leadership over the Brotherhood, he was unsure if he should be happy or truly frightened. He had pledged himself to her cause, but prayed she never discovered what he harbored for his youngest.

Then the news of how a Bolton up in Winterfell had taken the young Stark girl as his bride, securing his claim as lord. That had sent him into a rage, a cold dead rage. And whatever it was that had snarled in his chest, when he had the small princess pinned, had awoken something feral inside of him. The same night that he had heard of Arya's marriage, he'd dreamed. Dreamed in a way that brought out a part of him that just not possible.

The first dream had taken hold of him like the grip of death and he'd slept for a good three days and nights. Nothing had woken him, nothing in the living world at least. Because when he had woken in a body not his own, something covered in the blackest of furs and larger than any man, he was gone. Gendry forgot who he was and had been, lost as he was in a mind that wanted him to do nothing but race to the large wall of pure ice.

He ran far and fast, long into the night and well into the next day. He needed to leave his dead pack, killed by the savage man beasts and their large cousins. What he needed was a new pack, this time with a suitable mate that would carry on his line. So he ran past the giant cliff of ice and made it to a large salty lake that connected to the sea and filled with fatty warm blooded fish that stayed on ice and rocks. He eventually made it past the other side, where he made a decent den and fallen into a deep sleep.

When Gendry had woken, he'd no idea why he was in a man's den and nearly attacked some of the Brotherhood. But he'd found he had no claws or fangs to rip apart these enemies. And then Gendry knew that he was no beast, and had been ashamed. He'd left quickly to the east to get away in case he really hurt his brothers.

Thoros had sent him to this inn, telling him that he would still be of use here. And he was mending and making weapons and armor. But he also protected the orphans here, and any other patron that only came to the halls for peace. It was great for a while, it still was, but then the beast of his dreams had mated a small wolf. He had come undone and had agreed to the first girl that his inner beast approved. All he recalls was that she had just a small semblance to Arya.

But it didn't last and the beast had killed the small, weak she-wolf. Just as he made the girl drink moon tea the next morning before she left on her way. It wasn't enough and he'd been so confused, because he knew that his dreams weren't normal in any sense. Then he recalled the story Arya had told him once, of the descendants of the First Men who could leave their bodies and become animals. He'd no clue who his parents were, so he didn't question it all that thoroughly when he decided that he must be a warg. It was the only explanation that he'd had.

And he closed his eyes and let the beast take him. Take him to the small encampment with the Night's Watch, filled with the savage man beasts and the black furred men. Where the white runt cried in sorrow as his mate of the soul healed so very slowly from his grievous wounds. And he watched the fat one carefully as he tended to the wounded one, both far away and concealed from the main den. Maybe just a small bite one of these days.

**A/N: Yes, I know what I made Gendry. But he gets limited access, so he can't just turn into Bran and take over stupid people or go from one animal to another easily. I'm saying that blood from his mother's side is diluted enough that he just barely has the ability. Like, barely. He doesn't even get to control it. Beast does. This will be a major factor in the story. If you have any questions or concerns just review or PM me.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, places, or whatnot created by GRRM. Everything else that is not covered by his copyright is hopefully fresh ideas from my lovely mind. Sorry if something is similar to something you may have read or written, but I am not doing it on purpose and I am very much trying to be original. If I was making money off of this, it would in no way be on fanfiction. 'Nough said.

**Warning:** This had been rated** M** because I like to be detailed, so I will mention: blood, definite gore, vulgar language, and mature situations throughout the chapters. You no like? You leave.

**A/N: Thank you Sleepinthergarden for leaving a review, it is humbly appreciated. And I can't believe that I mixed up the Tully and Frey coat of arms in the first chapter. So I changed that just a tweak so Nymeria is having her pack eat the Freys. Last thing I need is for her to eat potential allies.**

**I'm willing to knight anybody that leaves a review, or favs or follows…. or just reads this.**

Come the morrow she was up and smiling from her run with Nymeria. Before she made her way downstairs however, she closed her eyes and forgot about the dead Stark. She was a Rosswaters now and had only arrived at the inn for the first time. No blood or murder, just some orphans to fawn over before she left with some new supplies.

Fawn she did, as her meal was brought to her she entertained the younger girls about needlework and fine dresses and singing as she played her bells. The very small boys curled their fingers in her loose braid and looked at her beauty with wide eyes. Some of the older children had asked about her journey there and her homelands. So she told them with laughs and sweet smiles, which the two girls that owned the inn smiled at with smiles of their own. The whole time she enlightened the children, the large smith looked at her with unusual eyes.

She blushed when she caught him looking and he frowned once or twice before looking away. The inn keepers sat beside her when none of the other residents required their services. "Don't mind him milady, many a girl and woman try to catch his eye but he won't go running to them. 'Specially if they highborn like you."

"Oh, does he not like pretty girls then?" Lilienne asked flustered, "is he interested in boys instead, I wonder."

He stiffened and he walked out, one of the older boys following him. "He has bed a few girls over the years. Says that he don't want no bastards though."

The other continued after her younger sister Willow, and if she remembered right this woman was named Jeyne. "The walls are thin enough and we can hear him sometimes, when he takes to the hand. He's so frustrated when girls of a certain type come by the inn. I know he's bed one or two of them, but he makes sure they drink moon tea before they go."

Lilienne blushed heavily, "I see then. It is a shame that a man like that is wasted. He should have been wed."

"Indeed." Jeyne said, "But this world treats its bastards differently."

Lilienne packed up and mounted her horse and waved at a few of the children before she left on the Riverroad. It was quiet for a time and she was careful to be in role always, in case there were ears and eyes in the silence. Occasionally she crossed paths with a few travelers that were kind enough to tell her how much further she needed to go. It wasn't until she was a day's ride from Stone Hedge that she came across a man so obvious a Frey. He looked at her and asked her why such a pretty girl was doing in the forest alone. And she told him how she had family in Stone Hedge and needed to get there soon as they must be worried about her. With that he offered to lead her there, seeing as a highborn girl should be accompanied by a highborn man.

Along the way he recalled how he had once been betrothed to a Stark before the King of the North broke their arrangement. And he told her with delight on his tongue that he was glad each and every man loyal to the King of the North was slaughtered like the drunks they were. He even went as far as to exclaim that if it wasn't for Robb Stark's betrayal, his family wouldn't be in control of Riverrun.

When they finally reached the guarded gates they parted as he made towards a brothel and told her that if she needed to do more traveling, to find Elmar Frey.

That night before she joined with Nymeria, she muttered her sacred prayer. "Ilyn Payne, Meryn Trant, Queen Cersei, Dunsen, Ramsay Bolton. Elmar Frey. Valar morghulis"

Then she was watching beneath the snowing sky as men traveled the flat trails. They were the ones without any banners; she barred her teeth and watched as they passed. Should her and her cousins hunt them, even if most were not plump with the sweet fats?

_No_. There was one that walked. He stood out in her mind when he turned, and Nymeria snarled as her mate of the soul recoiled and she knew that he must be a pack deserter. So she prepared to lead a hunt, but Arya's will pushed down the need to fight and hurt and kill. If the male was to be killed, than her human would do it. Make him see what he had helped create: the strong human she-wolf that was her Arya.

So she turned towards the way of the lake and hunted after the large deer she and her pack had not yet killed off in these parts. The occasional lion joined in on her prey items that night, blood splattering the white snow in red as she shook limb from body. But she was not filled and started running again towards the small town that once had smaller stupider cousins that obeyed man. They were eaten almost like the men that came with them so long ago. She should fix that.

Arya woke and thought over the things that she had seen as she joined with Nymeria. The traitor was traveling with the Brotherhood, in the direction of Riverrun. But now was not the time to find him, she was so close that she could nearly taste her contract. She would find _him_ later and figure out why he had left. Now it was the time for her to gain critical information on her target.

She then watched the lord as he invited a lowborn servant to his castle while his lady went out to pray. Watched through the eyes of dogs, cats, rats, and ravens like she once had to in Bravos. How the old Lord fucked his mistress on a very regular basis, she noticed. And she knew what was her best bet into that castle. It just needed some time to work out the kinks.

For the next six days she continued to watch Lord Bracken's happenings, watching for any openings, any weaknesses. Elmar found her in the inn and she questioned him quietly, because he insisted that people were not to know he was a Frey here. Too close to Riverrun, even though it was now sworn to his house, where his family was slowly being butchered by wolves and the mad woman Lady Stoneheart. Vindictively she sent out a heartfelt thanks to Nymeria and her pack and the mysterious lady.

Different people would look at them and look very uneasy. Others openly glared when she asked as much as possible about the "Red Wedding" and the fate of his family. He boasted often when she gave him just enough beer to get him drunk, while only sipping and being wary herself. Sometimes he would get too close to her, but none of the patrons or the bar tender helped her any.

When she wasn't in her room or talking with Elmar, she was walking amongst the ruined town. Asking about the different families, both dead and captured. Her alibi was working out quite nicely, as there was once a family of the Free Cities living here.

It wasn't until the eighth day in town that Arya made her move. The commoner that fucked the Lord, Hildi her mind supplied, had a simple mind and put up little resistance when Arya skinchanged into her. Indeed the woman was so simple that Arya easily made her sleep in her own mind with a whim. There was no need to alert the lords that somebody in Stone Hedge could control people with just the mind. Better left that forgotten by the common wench.

With ease Arya forced the woman to rub a fragrant but potent poison along her neck, just below and behind the ears. Lord Bracken was fond of sucking there she remembered. And then she made the commoner put the vial back where Lilienne had hidden it for this sole occasion.

She edged out of the woman's mind, all the while putting thoughts of visiting the lord in her head. It would happen, the Lady Bracken had left the castle just moments before and the Lord had been in an irritable mood over the feud with House Blackwood. Give it two days and the poison would kick in, making the man get severely sick. By the fourth day of his illness, he'd be dead. There was no known antidote in Westeros, but in Essos it would have been more than easy to diagnose and treat. It's a shame the Lord had his town burned, it caused all the foreigners to flee.

Lilienne planned to be gone the day before the Lord fell ill, but she had to wait a night. She herself felt slightly ill, there was a reason skinchangers were not supposed to use humans as their subjects, no matter how challenged in the head. If she didn't know better, she'd assume she had a crushed skull with the pain her head was in.

The pain was manageable by the next morning, and she was able to leave the inn with her stalker in tow. He prattled on when she mounted her mare, only stopping for breath when they reached the gates. The guards paid them no notice, only using whispered words on how the Lord had suddenly fallen ill.

Guess the poison had been stronger than she had thought. Or the Lord weaker.

"-My Lady. Why is it that you leave now?" Her attention was brought back to Elmar.

"Oh, I give apologies my lord. It seems that most of my family had been killed by the battles of the war. Word has it that my cousin had been besieged by those vile wolves." Lilienne said, noticing from the corner of her eye as something moved in the forest ahead of them. "I'm surprised we have seen nought of them."

She pulled her cloak tighter around her, carefully watching the spots ahead. There was something familiar about this whole thing, but she couldn't say.

They were out of sight from Stone Edge by this point, and the minor bustle with it had faded. As they turned on a bend, men jumped from the shrubs and grabbed hold of Elmar. Two men tried to get her reigns from the right, but she was already galloping away. Her hand was reaching into the pack at her side, fingers brushing the edge of her throwing dagger. Distantly she heard the twang of an arrow.

"Wha-!" She braced herself as her horse collapsed with a pained screech. The ground came fast and hard as she rolled and bounced. Now she really hated riding sidesaddle.

"Look what we have here," Lilienne was seized by an arm and brought to a stand. "A Frey and his highborn wench."

She had just enough time to see Elmar being punched hard in the gut when a sack was placed roughly on her head. Before she could wrench herself free, ropes were binding both her hands tightly behind her back. Whoever had her dragged her to her feet and pushed her forward, towards the west. Elmar made a pained noise and she cared not, more concerned with her footing.

Somebody grabbed hold of her waist and threw her onto a horse's back. "Now, if you behave My Lady, then we will have no issues. We are leading you to trial, understood?"

"Trial for what, ser?" She laid her accent on as thick as possible, coupled with some fear and pain.

A gruff voice shouted out from behind them, "The questions can wait for Lady Stoneheart! Let's get a move on it. Be sure to lead the horse, it still has use."

It was the Brotherhood. Which explained why she felt this was familiar, Nymeria had seen it once or twice as she was hunting. Of course traveling by a main road made ambush an obvious, but it was also still very successful.

The saddle dug hard into her side with every bound the horse made. A steading hand was at her back, only a few inches from Needle's handle and her rear. She was more concerned with him feeling her sword than her rump. Some of the men laughed heartily, while others talked of the next meeting that they had been summoned for by their Lady.

"Please, I'll give you all the gold you want! Any woman you could crave!" Arya grit her teeth from the Frey boy's insistent whining. "Just let me go!"

"Do shut up!" She finally snapped, much to the bemusement of their captors. "If we are being brought to our deaths, I'd much prefer that I don't listen to you cry."

And miraculously he was as quiet as the grave. At least until they stopped, where he began pleading once more. Arya turned as far away from the noise as possible, waiting for any chance that she might get to get away. The men had yet to search her, so there was hope that she could grab a dagger from her boot and cut her binds. No such luck came, though, for as soon as she was set down, the sack was taken from her head.

Night had fallen and the stars were out, with just a sliver of moon to light up the small path they stood on. Many men were present, watching silently as a figure wearing a drawn cloak approached. There were a few that she barely recognized, from her first stay with the bannerless men. Many though, were unfamiliar faces.

Lem, bright yellow cloak and all, was off to the side near the tree line. Jack-Be-Lucky was watching the cloaked figure, his one eye unwavering. And behind the cloaked figure were Harwin, Thoros, and Gendry. She held back the scowl at Gendry's discovery and watched the worn man that was to the traitor's right. He was thinner and tired, hunched over slightly above a small lantern with his eyes reflecting the flames.

Gendry though looked surprised at her, suspicion and uncertainty in his eyes. "Lady Lilienne?"

A gurgled sound came from the cloaked figure, as it approached. Its hand was to its throat, the bony fingers looked swollen and dead. Harwin stepped forward as the woman slid off her hood. Arya gasped, not at the disfigured form of the woman, but at her hate filled blue eyes. Eyes she thought she might not have been able to see again. What was this walking corpse, who wore her mother's face? What of Lord Beric?

Elmar screamed, a high pitched horrified yowl. "What are you demon?"

"To believe that this was to be Lady Arya's husband." A snort from behind her, and she blinked at one of the best archers she had ever known. "The girl would have gone mad. Not enough stones with this one."

Harwin made a motion for silence, when Catlyne Stark spoke in her gurgles. "You have been brought to trial with Lady Stoneheart. One of you is accused of knowing of the Red Wedding before it was to happen. The other is a supposed sympathizer. If guilty you will be hanged for your crimes."

Terrified blubbers started spewing from Elmar. "No. No. Nononon_onono!_"

Arya turned as much as possible and struck out with a foot. It struck the Frey in the solar plexis and he went down with a wheeze. "I'd have aimed for your balls, but I doubt you have any. Now. Shut. Up."

Her voice was colder, laced with the fires of the rage that burned hot within her. Lady Stoneheart's scabbed cheeks trembled into a frown, eyes narrowed at the highborn girl before her. Arya looked back defiantly, searching for any signs of her mother. There were none that showed themselves to her.

"Speak." This waspy word was the only of the jumbled mess that made sense.

"I'm from the Free City of Bravos, away from the canals and towards the islands closer to the shore. I originally arrived here for family, only to find my uncle and aunt dead and cousin missing. This swine offered me company and I knew no better of your… political goings around these parts. Last I heard it was the Freys in charge of the lands around Riverrun. He's already admitted to me of his crime."

"Who, family?" Arya remained stubbornly silent, unwilling to offer any believable highborn names. Lady Stoneheart was quiet for a long time. Then she gripped hard around her neck. "Hang."

None protested the fate of the two. Though the few she knew looked about ready too, as they were sworn to protect the innocents. Nooses were secured around their throats as they were set atop horses. Arya tensed as the rope tightened and scraped against the sensitive flesh of her throat. Her body tensed just as the horses were led forward.

Just before she was off her horse, she stood on its flank and used as much force to flip her feet up and above her head. One foot wrapped itself in the rope. She pulled herself up just enough to breathe, while her other foot kicked hard at the air above her face. The knife slid out of her boot and she caught it just by the handle with her teeth.

Below her she could make out the already moving men, some trying to get the frightened horse to hang her under control and the others drawing weapons. The knife's honed edge cut through the rope like butter, and Arya felt herself falling. Fortunately when the strand wrapped around her foot pulled taut, it didn't break or stress anything. With the momentum from her fall, she swung hard and forced every muscle in her body to raise her to the branch. Which her free foot caught by the heel.

The branch creaked with the effort, but she was soon on top and even further away from those with swords. Her eyes were watching Anguy though, with his hand reaching for his quiver to ready an arrow. She tossed her blade up into the air and leaned forward. Blood sprayed as she caught the knife by the blade and she was sawing at the bindings on her wrist.

Before Arya could leap for a different branch or an arrow would find its mark in her, there was a surprised cry. "Don't kill her!"

Silence was met, and neither target nor bowman moved. Both ready to put themselves into action, they moved their eyes to the Red God's priest. He was torn between the flame and the chaos around him. Those below her were tense around the man, ready to strike if need be but waiting for explanation.

"I've seen and met you before, but I've no idea as to where or when. Something hides from me your true face, Faceless Man." The few who knew the significance of his last words looked shocked and drew their weapons closer to themselves.

The greener men even jumped when she spoke out in the tongue native to Bravos. "All men must die, Thoros oy Myr. What is it you see, that would have your God spare me?"

He paused and spoke out to her, his tongue not sounding out some of the words correctly. "The North falls, and with it there is so much death. The Other slips his hold over Westeros quickly and surely."

Now _that_ was a surprise.

"A life then," Arya says in the Common Tongue, to the flinching of a few, "for the life you spared. Speak any name that your Lady would like go, and it shall be. As long as this one goes free in place."

Thoros turned to Harwin and the Lady, and they conversed quietly. Tension eased from their midst, just as when the farmers chased wolves from their flocks. As the three finished with their many words, Thoros spoke. A stormy Gendry at his side opened his mouth too, having heard their final decision and clearly not agreeing.

"Walder Frey."

"Ramsay Bolton."

Both at the same time, but both names created a ringing in her ears. And she thought quickly, glancing at Gendry. Why he'd shouted out that second name, she couldn't know. But it would be worth her while to get back Winterfell from that damned Bolton bastard. Emmon Frey was the one Thoros called though, and by right it should be the Frey that died in her place.

"Tell me why you want the Bolton, smith." Arya called, both wanting to scream and punch that stupid stubborn face, the one she had seen only directed at her. She was trying to play a mysterious and sly assassin, as Jaqen had once been to her.

He looked up surprised, stopping his argument with Harwin and Thoros. "He took someone from me."

"We all have someone taken from us. That is the way things are." She snapped at him, eyes narrowed and she fought back the pain her voice. Her father, Robb, Ricken, Bran. They were all taken from her. "I'll kill the Frey for you. None else."

Gendry stepped forward, shrugging out of Harwin's grip on his arm. "You can't just expect me to leave Arya in the hands of that bastard!"

"Was she not originally in yours?" Arya drew herself as tall as she could; staring him down and watching as his eyes narrowed.

"What would you know? I did my best to keep her safe!" He was moving forward then, as Arya was adjusting the blade in her hand.

Harwin was immediately stepping between them, stern eyes glancing at Gendry while his main focus was the larger threat. Her. "That would be enough."

She sighed and took in a deep breath, trying to stay her anger. It may have been awhile since she last lost her temper. But by Him of Many Faces, Gendry undid her wavering control so easily. And not many could do that anymore. If she remembered right, it was when she found the deserter of the Night's Watch. His boots were perfect for the snow here in Westeros. The temporary blinding had been more than worth it.

"Of course," Arya turned abruptly, walking in the direction of her injured mare.

An arrow was lodged in her hindquarters, enough to hurt but not make lame. A few of the men got out of her way uncertainly, but still had their weapons drawn. Their caution was undue however, as she was only searching for the bandages in her pack. While the slice across her palm was superficial, it was still bleeding profusely. She gave a quick flex to her newly bound hand, not even wincing at the sting. Cuts from oysters and clams were much more painful.

Arya moved her hands under her cloak and started to loosen the ties of her dress stepping out of it as it fell away from her frame. As she bent down to retrieve it, she discreetly wrapped Needle in the ripped and bloodied cloth. Now was not the time for her keepsake to be seen, at least not by the one who knew the significance of it.

"So," she drawled, pushing the bundle deep into her pack, "are we not leaving?"

Some of the men grumbled, and started moving with their Lady. Arya grabbed the reigns to her mare and traveled after them, glancing back only once to see golden eyes from behind the swaying corpse of Elmar. She blinked and they were gone.

Nymeria had her back, and with a small weight off her shoulders she kept after the departing knights.

**A/N: I'm surprised I'm churning out my chapters so quickly. But it helps that I like writing them. **

**Plus, I'm already part way done with the next chapter. It's being held hostage though. Give me a ransom fit for a King and I'll set it free.**

**Thanks~ Sei**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, places, or whatnot created by GRRM. Everything else that is not covered by his copyright is hopefully fresh ideas from my lovely mind. Sorry if something is similar to something you may have read or written, but I am not doing it on purpose and I am very much trying to be original. If I was making money off of this, it would in no way be on fanfiction. 'Nough said.

**Warning:** This had been rated** M** because I like to be detailed, so I will mention: blood, definite gore, vulgar language, and mature situations throughout the chapters. You no like? You leave.

**A/N: Okay, so I officially knight all my reviewers. I've decided that the readers are just squires for now. Thank you everybody for your support and I hope you like this. It is different from the other chapter's because it goes between Jon's POV and Beast/Gendry's POV. I personally had fun writing this.**

**Be warned, there may be only one more update after this until next Friday. I'm getting two of my six wisdom teeth taken out and don't do good writing while in pain. Unless you want everybody to die horrible deaths in this fic.**

**So the usual read, review fav, follow speal. Love you all and don't be afraid to question me.**

**Iara: I believe that your question is answered in this chapter.**

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jon hurt, but it was a phantom pain. It radiated from his abdomen, like someone had pushed a red hot poker inside of him over and over again. He tried to open his eyes to inspect himself and was startled when all he saw was black.

That was when he noticed the cold; it was everywhere and felt thick. Almost as if his skin was made of ice and his blood was freezing slush.

Then he heard the sound of a war drum. A single beat and then it was gone. Yet it was back, just a single beat many minutes later. He almost missed it. His body became heavier with each beat, slowly loosing what little strength he had. Sleep claimed him shortly.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

His paws padded soundlessly across the ice and snow as he neared the human dens. The night was dark, the moon as black as his fur. A strong wind brought to him the smells of the different prey. It also brought him the scent of the white runt he had seen before, the one crying for his injured human.

He stopped to open his maw, and breathed deeply. The runt's scent was weak, hours if not days old. So he continued, towards the even weaker scent of fish and man smell. It wasn't long until he was in the small clearing with the fur caves that men took shelter in. His ears perked and he heard the rumble man made when he slept. His food would be easy prey.

Then he feasted in the churning storm.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Something rumbled above Jon, and then he was being shaken horribly. He cried out but no sound came, as if his voice had been stolen. He tried to move, but that made no difference.

He struggled for a long time, Jon wasn't sure how long but it felt like years. Just as he was giving up, something around him squeezed unforgivably. And then he was crying in agony as his head felt like it exploded from the voice that seemed to echo off the walls. There was no way he could make out the words, not only did they sound as if another tongue but he was slowly loosing what little consciousness he had.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Beast had just passed the tree line when a tree snapped and fell close to the fur caves. Snow from the branches collapsed one cave, and then men were everywhere, digging and fighting off the great winds. A particularly fat man was helping the white runt dig through the snow, until they were pulling the limp form of another man from the wreckage.

His head swiveled and Beast was heading back to his den near the sea ice. He had his fill for a time.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next time Jon woke, it was the same as the first. Darkness surrounded him, his stomach was burning with pain, and he was very cold. Though, there was now the unmistakably raw feeling to his entire body.

As soon as he was aware, the voice boomed out again and it felt as if he was being clutched in a giant claw. To his luck, there was much less pain when the voice spoke. It paused and tried again, its voice softer now and like the sound of creaking ice.

"You are far from your body, little mortal man. I wonder what gave you the stones to try and take hold of me while I slept. What is it that could possibly make me not destroy you trespasser?"

Suddenly Jon could see, and wished he hadn't. There was nothing but darkened ice around him, from every side it surrounded. It was rounded and glimmered with its own unnatural light. Just barely discernable outside the misshapen dome surrounding him were eyeless fish that glowed, as if from out of the horror stories Old Nan used to tell. Monsters fished up from the depths of the waterways and had never seen the light of day.

"Speak flesh changer, before I break your mind!" Its voice bit deep with annoyance. "I have little time for nonsense. There is still time for me to sleep, the dead prey walking are not yet plentiful."

And image of an Other popped into his head and he flinched back. Then it was aflame but frozen all at once. Just before _something_ ate it.

"What was that?" Jon tried moving, but he couldn't. "And who are you, why am I not at the Wall?"

"Are you daft hatchling? That was the splendor of a dragon born of the frozen waters! Flesh of my flesh." The voice roared loud, and the ice dome cracked. "Now speak me truth, why have you disturbed me?"

Jon was startled. If this was true, then he was with in Ice Dragon, fictitious creatures of myth.

"Myth? I am no myth!" More cracks appeared along the dome. "Has it been so long that you lesser beings have forgotten?"

And then whatever was holding Jon was in his head, bringing forth memories and snippets of his life. Almost as soon as it started, it was over and the force was gone. But Jon was having problems thinking, his body heavy and mind numb.

"Your will is weak to my own." The voice mused, "It appears that you manlings have forgotten of those of us from the Always Winter. But the Others and their dead slaves have woken. So I must as well, if only to gorge my gut on prey worthy of my frozen depths."

Jon didn't register the words, blinking as the blackness took him slowly. "Weak as you are now, leaves me little use of you. Sleep, Jon of the Snow. I will seek you beyond this "Wall" you speak of, once my blood thaws. Now let me rest for a few days."

Jon was already gone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Beast watched the human fires as the sun started to poke over the horizon. Some point in the night after he had returned to his den, the blizzard had stopped. Now it was clear and calm, but not. His fur refused to settle and the smell of cold and dead things permeated the air.

Maybe he should make a den closer to the man fire. The Dead Ones didn't like the man fire, but the man fire sure liked them. Yes, it wouldn't hurt to intrude on the white runt's territory. If he slept now and started running by the sun's highest point, he'd be close to the man fires by the time the moon rose.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Light was blinding his closed eyes and Jon raised an arm to block the intensity. He became aware that with his arm moving, the buzzing around him stopped. Just as he made to sit, there were arms pushing him back and white hot agony nearly splitting his body.

"-Stop! Jon, you need to stop!" Samwell's voice, his mind supplied through the pain. "You'll tear the stitches!"

Stitches? Since when did he need-

Ah, that's right. Bowen Marsh and many of the older Brothers had attacked him when he'd told the men he was going to rescue his sister. Now he felt the need to rise again. But he could only grimace when the pain in his front throbbed warningly.

"Sam," Jon's voice was raspy. "Why are you not at the Citadel? What happened?"

"Maester Aemon, he got sick and we were forced to stop in Braavos. Dareon sung so we could pay and earn enough coin to leave. But Jon," Sam paused, and Jon opened his eyes to see his friend's conflicted face. "He abandoned the Watch. He married a whore and he left us."

There was a sour taste in Jon's mouth. "Did you kill him?"

Sam shook his head. "He pushed me into one of the canals. By the time someone had helped me out, he was gone. So I took Maester Aemon, Gilly and the baby on a ship that was willing to harbor us. Aemon didn't make it. So I sent Gilly and the baby to Horn Hill. She's to tell my father that she had my bastard."

"Sam-"

"It was the only way to keep them safe. And when the Wall's secure we can bring her back."

Jon saw the conviction on his friend's face. He also noticed the small tent that they were in, with a bright lantern to one corner. "Alright. I get it but why are you here? Where is here?"

"Well, I got back just over a week ago with recruits from the south. I couldn't just leave them with instructions on how to get here." Sam got a queer look and glanced towards the tent entrance. Jon noticed it was bordered with shadows brought by the steady decent into twilight. "But when I arrived at Castle Black things were very strange. Nobody would tell me where you were and none of the wildlings were there. I was going to leave but then Ghost dragged me into the trees."

As if called the white direwolf padded past the tents flaps and settled beside Jon. He lifted his head and nudged Jon's hand with his muzzle. Ghost lowered his ears and then curled beside his master's legs.

"Jon," Sam looked nervous now and fidgeted, "the wildlings took you after the Brothers stabbed you. They said that you were cold as the ice they found you in. They could barely feel your heart beatin' and the amount of blood you lost was fatal. It's been nearly three weeks since they found you and nobody knows how you survived. Everyone says you should be dead."

"What?" He moved the furs from his prone form and noticed the bandages around his torso. They spread from his chest to just above his breeches. Splotches of red were bleeding through the pale fabric, but they were small and not concerning. Not like he was sure they should have been. "How is this even possible?"

"Not even Lord Stannis' Maester knew. The Red Woman wanted to burn you when she found out. Some of the wildlings took you east, towards the Bay of Seals to hide you. When she tried to follow, Ghost bit her hand. Nearly tore it off he did! That upset Lord Stannis, but he sent a raven telling us that he has Lady Arya and others from Winterfell."

_Arya._

Jon forced his way onto his elbows, hissing as he forced his way through the pain. "My sister, he specifically mentioned that he had Arya?"

Sam tried to push Jon back down, but Ghost was standing in front of the large man. "It's not like you can travel in this condition. For fuck's sake Jon! Lay down!"

"No, I need to see her, make sure that she's alright." Jon grit his teeth and was just able to sit up. "I'll kill that Bolton myself if he hurt her."

"That's the problem though," Sam started and it froze Jon to his core. "I don't know if you should be hearing this, but she's not good. She looks beaten and abused. Lord Stannis says she's broken."

His heart stopped then, filled with horror as it was. What came worse almost made him cry.

"They say she tried to kill herself when they found she was with child."

Despair welled within his aching gut, which turned into a burning fire of rage. "Help me up, Sam."

"You're in no-"

"I said help me u-!"

"Wights!"

Both stopped and looked towards the tent flaps, Sam rushing out with Jon trying to follow. It only resulted in Jon falling forward onto his knees to heave red tinged bile. Ghost spared Jon no glance and was running after Sam, teeth bared and eyes narrowed.

Jon turned his head and took a ragged breath, only to spot Longclaw near the foot of his bedding. He reached forward to snatch his bastard sword, when the edges of his tent began to freeze over. When he tried to surge to his feet, he only stumbled out the front of his tent and fell to one knee in the snow.

Battle was going on everywhere. Spearswives were fighting along with the men as the hacked at nearly a dozen Wights. One of the wildlings closest to him fell when a Wight stepped into his unguarded flank and grabbed hold of the man's exposed neck. With a snap the wildling was dead, and the wight spotted him.

Try as he might, Jon couldn't get himself to stand. He pushed Longclaw's blade into the snow and struggled to get on his feet. Just as he managed to stand, Ghost was leaping on the wight and tearing the dead being apart with snapping jaws. And then he was backing away, fur bristling and ears lowered in fear as something even more dangerous stepped through the tree line across from Jon.

The Other strode forward, effortlessly as if the snow was only making it faster. It was pale as the moon and was covered in shimmering armor. In its hand was a thin tapered sword, clear and sharp as an iceicle. Behind it was a swirling mass of white mist, moving towards their camp like a flood.

He was just able to lift his sword to meet the downward swipe the Other aimed at Jon. The blades rang with a horrible sound that tore into Jon's ears ruthlessly. And he was being held by his throat, his opponent taking advantage of his instinctive need to cover his ears. Longclaw was at his feet where he'd dropped it.

Ghost leapt at the inhuman being, only to be swatted away by the Other's sword arm. Jon gasped for breath and clawed at the Other's hand in hopes of getting it to release him. It tightened its hold and stared at him with its dispassionate blue star eyes. His vision was fading to black when a large mass slammed into both Jon and the Other.

They tumbled into Jon' tent and he could hear breaking glass. Suddenly a fire was spreading with the spilled oil of the lantern, and Jon was struggling towards his sword with a small line of blood trailing after him. The Other gave a cry, almost achingly familiar, as the flames neared it. But as soon as the cry was out, the fire was gone and it was advancing on Jon again.

It lunged then, a flicker of fury on its face as it readied its sword at Jon. He flipped onto his back and thrust his hands up. The entire weight of the Other fell upon his Valyrian blade, as its own blade sunk into the snow just a hair's breadth away from Jon's check. Its scream forced the snow and ice from the trees around them.

Then it was silent and sliding down Longclaw before it melted over him. The chilled fluid seeped into his bandages and left hoarfrost in its wake, causing Jon to cry out in agony. He couldn't force his hands to claw at his worsening wounds since they appeared stuck to the hilt of his sword. Shouting could be heard, but this time it was absent of weapons striking other weapons or frozen flesh.

The pain was too much to tolerate and he fell into unconsciousness again.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The humans were wary of him, but choose to ignore him as he sat silently. They seemed to think that the white runt would keep him at bay while they tended to the wounded man. His body covered in the remains of the Winter Walker.

Now Beast was content to let the savage men fight on their own, even more sure of his decision when he noticed the Winter Walker approaching. But then he saw the wounded one, with its dark hair and eyes cold as the ice but alit with smoldering fire. Eyes that made him incredibly protective and angry and alive. So he let the white runt take down the first dead thing, before he was running to help the defenseless man.

By the time he was there, the Winter Walker was already striking down the white runt. So he barreled into the Winter Walker's back like a true direwolf should. And now he waited as the humans were once again trying to save this one manling. How unusual.

No, what was unusual was the immediate need to protect the injured human. As if he was part of his pack. But he was a direwolf and had no need for humans in his pack. Men were weak, food and nothing else.

Though, if he thought about it, his mate of the soul was human. But he was still stupid; he didn't know how to properly be of one body. Always thinking that he was Beast, what foolishness. Maybe that was why he felt the need to protect, perhaps this injured human was part of his mate of the soul's pack.

No again. The feelings were wrong. It was the eyes and dark hair that reminded of the need to protect. This man may have been a pack members littermate, separated from his family group.

Yes, that must be it.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jon was very uncomfortable. Like he was bound in snow. Why was it familiar?

"I will tire of you quite quickly little human, if you keep coming to me when you are on the verge of death and wake me from my slumber." A voice muttered in irritation to his thoughts. "But I suppose I shall fix your mind, seeing as I was the one to damage it."

And then there was a pain in his head, and he remembered. This was the voice of the ice dragon from his dreams. He opened his eyes and looked around, only to find himself looking resolutely at the dome of cracked ice.

"Do not bother forcing you will again little human, it is useless." And the he was looking down at a giant claw of light blue scales and white talons. "Enjoy yourself as I try and fix your body. My powers are weak across such a distance. But it is easy enough to put your body in the healing sleep."

"Healing sleep?" Jon asked, trying to relax in the tight hold.

The dragon adjusted its gaze and Jon glimpsed an enormous body of the same blue scales, but this time covered in silver markings. Giant clawed wings were folded on its back and powerful hind legs were wrapped with a bladed tail. Something he'd only seen in drawings and imagination.

"Yes, we dragons of the frozen waters take to sleep when injured. It is not easy, but with you in my mind and sharing my body, I can lend some of my ability to your own body hatchling. Unless you wish to die, then I shall stop."

"No," he denied the dragon. "I can't die now."

A rumbling laugh was heard in his head. "As you wish hatchling. Now to fix what the venom in your veins. Be lucky you are born with just a hint of fire magic in your blood. Not enough to be of use against true flames though. That was lost to your father's ancestors long ago due to all the inbreeding."

"What are you talking about?" Jon asked. His father didn't have any form of fire magic. Eddard Stark was a man of the North, through and through.

"You are not fit to know. Not until after Blizzardwing has taught you the ancient ways." The dragon brushed Jon aside.

Jon fought and screamed. "Tell me!"

"SILENCE!" With the angered roar, the dome of ice shattered and the water was overtaking the dragon.

The cold didn't bother the dragon, but it wasn't built to swim and paddled clumsily in the direction of the surface. Slowly the water became lighter and less pressured, and Jon felt his initial panic subside when the dragon broke through the dense layer of ice covering the water. It took a deep breath and dug its claws into the loosened floes. As it pulled itself up and out of the water, it shook and the rapidly freezing water broke off from its scales.

"There was no water here when I first began my slumber. I should have taken to the mountains like the rest of my kind." It was an annoyed huff that brought frozen vapor in front of the dragon's snout. "I'm not made for water like my cousins of the sea are."

Jon recalled why the dragon had to take a swim and dug his feet in, "Tell me what you were talking about."

"Only when you know of the truth about the dead prey and their masters the Winter Walkers. Only then will I tell you petulant hatchling." The dragon grumbled. "Try and test my patience. And I promise I will find and eat you. Fire blood and all."

"Then tell me." Jon ground out, very annoyed himself and at wits end.

The dragon blinked up towards the moon and stretched its wings wide. "Fine, and be sure to remember this hatchling. I do not wish to repeat myself. Many moons ago, before man first existed, there were a great many dragons. Ones of fire. Ones of the sea. And ones of ice. We ruled and fought for many moons after, until man first came."

"My brothers, born of the frozen waters, came to this land, you call it Westeros. There were little tree people here, capable of seeing what had yet to happen and moving through bodies that weren't their own. We found them more interesting than the ones of the land you little mortals called Essos. So we decided to teach them the ways of the cold and ice, so that they may raise their dead and feed us without burning our frozen guts."

"Our teachings changed them, and the little tree people fled from their once brothers. The changed ones we called the Winter Walkers, what you call Others, and they hated the little tree people for their warmth. Cold and death changed them beyond anything that we expected. It warped the blood in their veins. Made it deadly to you humans and the little tree people before you. And their magic grew with them, making them immune to the cold and urethral."

"They could control the dead and forge the greatest of weapons from the ice. But they were bitter and hated all heat, even more so than me and my kin. At the least we can tolerate the sun. The Winter Walkers are also weak to the breath of a true dragon; wither fire, ice or water."

And Jon waited, until it was obvious that the dragon was done talking. "Well, will you tell me now?"

"I tire of this speaking and your ungrateful attitude. Be gone, hatchling." And then Jon was gone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**A/N: Ta-Dah~ I give you the idea of ice dragons! I will be expanding on this idea in Jon POV chapters exclusively, so sorry if this random bit of dragon confused you. But for those of you that picked up on my hinting, I will be using **_**that**_** theory about Jon's parentage. Thus the whole dragon thing going on this chapter. Good news is we get back to Arya in the next chapter. So maybe expect an update on Sunday or Monday.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, places, or whatnot created by GRRM. Everything else that is not covered by his copyright is hopefully fresh ideas from my lovely mind. Sorry if something is similar to something you may have read or written, but I am not doing it on purpose and I am very much trying to be original. If I was making money off of this, it would in no way be on fanfiction. 'Nough said.

**Warning:** This had been rated** M** because I like to be detailed, so I will mention: blood, definite gore, vulgar language, and mature situations throughout the chapters. You no like? You leave.

**A/N: Okay, this is my longest chapter so far, so I hope it tides you all over until Friday or maybe Saturady. I'd like to thank all the people that have followed, faved and reviewed this fic so far. It means a lot to me that people actually like my writing. The last bit of this chapter was more of a reward to you all than a necessary part of the plot line. So enjoy.**

**Any grammer, spelling, and just general mistakes I may have overlooked, please point out and I'll see if I can fix them.**

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Snow fell slowly from the skies, dusting the men and Arya in a fine layer of white. It clung to cloaks and hair and melted quickly against their warm bodies. In another life Arya would have appreciated seeing snow like this in Winterfell, where she would have declared war on her brothers and won spectacularly. Now though the wet snow sent a shiver down her spine as it drenched her so completely.

It had been almost half a day since her life had been spared, and the sun was just beginning to rise over the trees. With the sun came the vision of a clearing in the trees, filled with many rough patched tents. They were spread in a halfhearted semi-circle, with the center a bed of dying coals and embers. Only a few men came to meet them, casting curious looks Arya's way.

"Lady Stoneheart, we have news from Notch and his men." An older man stepped towards their group and Arya noticed the chains hanging from his shoulders.

Many of the men split then, heading for their tents or the remains of the fire to warm themselves. She made to move with them, but there was a firm grip on her arm. When she glanced over her shoulder, she came face to face with Harwin.

"Can't a girl warm herself after being exposed to the cold?" Arya muttered, casting a glance back at the welcoming coals.

"If only it were that easy lass. Not like you're the only one that's cold and damp though." He motioned to a man beside him to take Arya's horse. "No, I'm afraid the Lady would like some more words with you concerning your services. We'll wait for her to finish with the Maester, and then we'll talk in the tent over there."

It was the largest tent, Arya noticed. Battered and burned as it was, it looked like it had been savaged in a battlefield. And when she looked closer, she saw what was left of the Stark coat of arms. Half was burned and the other half had loose stitching. Which meant that this had probably been scavenged from Robb's things, just after his men had been wiped out.

"It may be no looker, but we take what we can. Not like we have gold coming out of asses like them Lannisters." Harwin started towards the tent, releasing Arya in the process.

She followed behind him, eyeing as the man with her mare let the horse lay in a makeshift stable. "Luxury is overrated. I've never been the kind of girl to appreciate those kinds of comforts."

He gave a small snort, "Sounds as if you grew up a Lady."

"We all start off from somewhere." She stepped past him and into the pleasantly warm tent. _And no matter how well I can pretend, I'm no Lady._

The tent was sparse, minus a few beds bordering the walls and a large table in the middle. Men were surrounding the table, looking at one of the many maps that lay upon it. She could just make out the small details of a few camps on the largest map when it was rolled up hastily and placed out of sight. This caught the attention of the men, and they became quiet. Her mind supplied names to a few of the faces, some belonging to minor Lords of Houses that served the Starks while others served House Tully.

"Was I interrupting something?" Arya continued forward until she was resting her hands against the worn table. "And here I thought you'd be in need of my services."

"Faceless." A garbled noise came from the other end of the table and Arya spared a glance at the Lady operating these men. "Enough, listen."

Arya clucked her tongue and crossed her arms beneath her chest, but was just able to quell a snide comment. With her obeying the command, a few men lost interest in her and gazed at Harwin expectantly. He nodded at them and stopped beside the head of the table by Lady Stoneheart.

"I'm sure you lot have noticed the young woman in our presence. Through unusual circumstances, we have acquired her services as a Faceless Man." Harwin held a hand up to lessen the round of surprised voices. "She has agreed to see that Walder Frey is killed. With this a given, the Lady has decided to take back Riverrun by the time a second full moon has passed."

"And how can we trust the word of this girl? How do we know she is no spy?!" One of the men closest to Lady Stoneheart supplied, casting Arya a dubious glare.

A predatory smile crossed Arya's face and her gaze turned vicious. "Do not take my skills lightly, unless you are volunteering to test them yourself."

His face contorted, and Arya fiddled with the sleeve of her tunic as if uninterested in his fury. He leaned across the table to grab her or start yelling, Arya was uncertain, and she struck her hands out like a viper. It curled around his calloused hand and flipped it deftly, showing to everyone the small needle pressed against one of his veins, threatening to break skin.

"If I wanted this entire camp dead, it most certainly would be." She let go of his hand then and slipped the small needle back into the cuff of her sleeve. Arya kicked towards the man that held a blade to her back and listened as he lost his balance. "At least one of you was prepared in case I wasn't who I claimed."

"And who are you exactly?" She sparred a glance at the scowling smith behind her as he quickly stood back up.

"I've gone by many names, none of which I'm willing to tell you." Arya narrowed her eyes at him before she turned back to Harwin. "If it makes your men feel better, I have no need to hear your battle plans. Just tell me when you want the Frey dead and what you want it to look like. An accident, illness, murder?"

The Lady made a motion with her hand and Harwin listened to her muddled speech. He turned back to Arya. "We need know if you can make it appear as if the death was caused by the Lannisters before our planned attack on Riverrun."

Arya thought quietly, pulling a commoners map of Westeros closer to her. With the rivers frozen, traveling north while avoiding the main roads would be easy enough. There were towns and ruins between here the Twins which were perfect for stocking up on supplies. Nymeria could even track down a Lannister traveling party for her to gather evidence. It wouldn't be impossible, but it would be the hardest job she had taken yet.

And she told them as such, going as far as to show them her proposed path of travel. "Expect me there in a moon's time. Walder will be dead within a fortnight of my arrival."

Lady Stoneheart made a dismissive wave. "Leave."

Arya nodded, leaving copious amounts of space between her and Gendry as she left. She turned her head back towards the group. "I'll leave come morning. If there is any pertinent information you feel I should have, make sure you get it to me."

With a harsh look from her new contractor, Arya was gone. She went to the stable with her mare. Her pack was untouched but her horse had been tended to while she was discussing her current job. Arya was sure to rub the horse's neck and give a few soft spoken words before she left; her pack hanging over one shoulder.

"Milady," a young voice called, and when Arya found the owner saw it belonged to a page. He had to be no older than eight. "I've been told to bring you to your tent."

She followed him to a small patchwork of furs towards the edge of the row of tents. It was just big enough for one, but smelt as if it had housed a good dozen before her. If she was certain, there was blood and a badly sewn rip along one wall. Harwin wasn't having a jape at her when he said they took what they could.

"I'm scared to see what you will be serving me for food." But the page was gone, lost amongst the other tents.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Gendry couldn't help but be surprised when his frown only deepened as the plans for the siege of Riverrun was planned around him. It had been a few hours before a plan had been set, and nothing said during that time had been pleasing. This would take a great deal more men then they had, and even more swords than he could supply. There was no way the brotherhood would be ready for this attack and leave it victorious.

"We'll be sending out our scouts to gather men from the trustworthy towns. We've got word from Lord Blackwood that he has a supply of weapons he can offer to our cause. Lady Bracken has sent word that her husband has fallen ill, and that she will send what men she can." Harwin said, addressing the knights. "Ser Wode, you will head east and gather any supplies and men. Notch has been sent a raven, telling him to head further west and block off the Riverroad from any Lannister reinforcements. The Peach will send word to those allied to us."

"And Ser Gendry," the blacksmith became wary at the look Harwin leveled him. "You will travel north with a few of our men. You are expected to leave for Raventree with the Faceless girl."

His frown turned into an outright scowl. "Can we even trust her? What if she does run off as soon as our backs are turned?"

Harwin looked tired. "If any of you lot knew anything about Faceless, then you know that they don't turn their back on their contracts. Once they have sworn to kill, their target will be dead within only a matter of time."

That did nothing to ease Gendry's worries on the woman. There was just something about her, not the dainty heiress she had pretended to be but the woman she acted like now, that was familiar to Gendry. That itself unnerved him, he was sure he didn't know anyone that could have been a Faceless. But the way her eyes burned through him when she looked his way, as if he had done something unforgiveable.

"Get some rest men, many of you will be leaving by the morrow!" Harwin approached Gendry as he made to leave with the rest of the men. "And lad, watch yourself. That girl may be bound to our group by contract, but there is no denying that she's hiding something."

"Don't worry," Gendry breathed out. "There isn't really much that I can do against a trained assassin."

He couldn't help it, Gendry really couldn't. The things he'd seen when he'd slept that night insured that he didn't get any more sleep than the few hours he'd managed to squeeze in. It wasn't the corpses that walked around the North as if it was normal for the dead to rise from the grave that made him fearful for sleep. No, that right was reserved for the Other that had found a way past the Wall.

The legends on the Others were sparse in the South, often meant to scare young children into listening to their parents. If any of the stories had even held a torch to the truth, no child would ever leave from their mother's embrace. That was one of the few things that Gendry was willing to bet on.

And then there had been that man, about his age he'd assume. The man with the same eyes as Arya, same fair skin and dark hair. A man who'd had something distinctly not human_ melt_ all over him. Something Gendry was sure was not a good thing.

When one of the men in his tent kicked him, Gendry gave up on the idea of sleep completely. On the way out he may have accidently kicked the man back, since there was too little stepping space. At this point he was past caring.

Frigid night air enveloped him as soon as he was out of his cramped tent, enveloping him in a very unwelcome embrace. He honestly missed the warmth of King's Landing on nights like this. Just not the smell of piss and the Goldcloaks after his head. Those he could live without. He quite liked his head.

With his hands clamping his cloak around him tightly, Gendry walked towards one of the guards posts that surrounded their clearing and temporary base. Anguy didn't even bother to spare a glance for him, the archer had his sight focused completely on the shadows. His bow was drawn, but not to its fullest. So whatever was out there wasn't an immediate that. If not for the blanket wrapped around the archers legs and the occasional cock of his head, Gendry may have thought the man had frozen to the tree branch.

"I wouldn't step past the tree line boy." Anguy said, relaxing the bow by a notch. "The wolves seem to be out tonight."

Well damn the Gods, the wolves were never close enough to be spotted around any of the camps before. "How long have they been here?"

"Well," his bow swiveled sharply to one side. "they only gotten close after the sun had set, but I think they were here since we arrived."

"That long?" He looked closely and was able to spot glowing yellow and green eyes hiding amongst the shadows.

"Aye." He pointed his bow further out. "I think the alpha she-wolf has even made an appearance. Near the barren oak."

And Gendry saw its shadow as it prowled in the darkness. Then its eerie golden eyes were looking straight at him. The wolf was then stepping forward and towards the camp. It towered above the other wolves by a good two feet; its bulk could almost be mistaken for that of a horse. But the glint of fangs and the hunters crouch it assumed made the wolf so very much a wolf.

He breathed out a sigh of relief when it turned away from him and back into the night. "Why haven't they attacked?"

"Eh, who knows?" He motioned to them again. "All they've been doing is layin' about and dare I say it, patrolling."

Patrolling? Why in the world would the wolves be doing such a thing? They never hesitate to attack humans anymore, usually going for the kill unless they had better prey nearby. Not that he'd complain, but the wolves didn't make any sense. Especially the she-wolf.

"Why are you out here?" Anguy asked after a lapse of silence. "Don't you leave with the sun?"

Gendry rubbed at his forehead, "Couldn't sleep."

"Thinking about the Stark girl again?" The archer implored, not really looking for an answer he already knew.

And he was silent as the grave, thinking that for once it wasn't Arya keeping him up. Well, at least not before now.

The Faceless was securing a bag across her shoulders when Gendry arrived at the small trail leading away from the clearing. Two others followed behind him, a knight and squire from Stoney Sept. She glanced up at them and turned away, most likely having already been informed by one of the men about her temporary companions.

"Try and keep up." She started at a brisk pace, not even bothering to check and see if they were ready. "I plan on getting to Raventree Hall in six days."

She led them on that hurried gate of hers, leading them along the nearly buried trail. The sun was blocked by dark clouds and made the forest dark around them, making it difficult to stay behind the Faceless. Gendry adjusted the small pack he'd brought with him, sharing a glance with Ser Madynn when the girl stopped on occasion to look into the dark woods. Neither of them trusted the girl and both were wary of traveling with her.

The tension around them was stifling, just as it was with their silence. It was already midday and they had yet to pass the Riverroad as they traveled north. He wasn't sure if both of the two men that accompanied him and the Faceless would last much longer without breaking out into conversation, if only to distract them. Thankfully neither the knight nor his squire made much noise as they walked through the trees.

They were nearing the Riverroad, when the Faceless girl stopped beside a tree just shy of the snow covered cobble. Her hand curled close to the bark signaling them to stop, and she slowly stepped back. Gendry watched warily as the girl looked along the road with meticulous eyes. Neither of their companions paid her much attention, only sparing a glance before they were stepping past the tree line.

When Gendry started to doubt the girl's caution, there was a war cry from just higher up the road. His sword was in his hands before either of the knight or squire's own blades. This cost them as an axe nearly lodged itself into the squire's neck, only to miss when the boy jumped back. Gendry was forced to watch as the ax sailed through the air and struck the knight's swords arm. It went to the bone before the wielder was yanking his weapon back.

Blood splashed across the squire's face and he raised an arm to wipe away at his eyes. The axe was coming down on the younger boy when Gendry rushed forward with his great sword, blocking the heavy attack with his blade. With as much force as he could muster, he deflected the axe and slashed at his opponents exposed face. His opponent leapt back, bringing his weapon up to strike.

He adjusted his stance and met the blow, pushing through it and striking the pommel of his blade into the man's nose. The man reeled, and Gendry slashed, taking the man's head in one fell swoop. A glint of steel flashed to his right, and he knew that he had no time to right himself to block or dodge.

A small blur went under his guard, straight at the attacker. He was turning to meet his new opponent when the Faceless's voice rung out. "No! To your left, I got this one."

Gendry faltered but did as instructed, settling into a prepared stance. The smaller man had been trying to sneak up on Gendry's blindside, but turned to circling instead when he was caught. Rushing towards the slight man, Gendry feigned a slash to the head. What his enemy didn't expect was for Gendry to instead bring his blade straight through the man's chest. His dying opponent coughed blood onto Gendry's face before he slid to the snow.

There was no longer the sound of battle going on around him, but Gendry kept his sword at the ready. As he looked around the road, he saw that there were at least five men around him, not Freys themselves, but possible banner men or vassals. Slowly the fight in him died and he cleaned his blade before sheathing it.

He glanced around to see how his party had faired. The Faceless was wiping her blades along the robes of the fallen, and then she went to searching the corpses. He noted that the knight traveling with them was struggling with his arm as his squire limped to the fallen man. The boy had a gash on his leg that needed patching and a growing bruise along half his face.

"Ser Madynn," Gendry approached the knight. "Do you think that you can make it back to the main camp before they leave for a new location?"

"No," he grunted as his squire tied off his mangled arm. "Not without a horse. And even then I couldn't make it back on my own."

Gendry sighed, "You'll need to bring your squire back with you then."

"Well," the Faceless called to them. "It appears the men had at least one horse and were waiting to ambush us."

He turned to face her, "And what makes you say that?"

She held up some parchment with one hand and pointed towards the far end of the road, where Gendry could just make out a tethered horse. "Well, they seem to have an order from the Lord Frey to camp along this road until they find your Brotherhood. The horse speaks for itself."

As he passed her to get to the horse, he swore that she muttered stupid. His chest gave a painful lurch but he was quick to dismiss it. He needed had already decided that he wasn't going to bother with her. But by the Gods, he was certain he'd snap at some point if she started referring to him that way. Like Arya had when she had been annoyed with him. This was going to be a long trip, Gendry just knew it.

When night fell, a blizzard took hold and forced the party of two to make shelter near the Red Fork. The snow pelted against their thin tent viciously, nearly collapsing it on more than one occasion. Both of them were forced to stay close to keep warm, but Gendry could tell that neither of them were fond of the situation. Ever since they had begun their journey, he had been acutely aware of the narrowed eyes and barbed words sent his way. He was sure that she would rather freeze in the storm than stay in here with him if not for the fact that it would kill her.

Even then, he had his doubts.

They'd just finished their small rations of fish jerky when Gendry let his curiosity get the better of him. "What is your problem?"

"Problem?" She exclaimed, and Gendry could feel her glare focused on him. "If anything I'd say that my problem is you."

"My point." He rolled his eyes and settled in his furs, his back still turned to her.

She was very quiet after that, and Gendry turned so that he could get a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. "You remind me of someone that hurt me years ago. I've never forgiven him."

He propped himself up on one elbow and looked at her incredulously. "You're mad at me because some man screwed you over?"

The Faceless bristled at him, "You have no idea how alike the two of you are. That is more than enough reason for me to not like you."

"Then tell me about him and I bet I can prove you wrong." He lifted his head in her direction. "You have no idea how creepy your glare is."

"I wouldn't tell you even if I could." She turned away from him, pulling her furs around her. "Once you become a Faceless, you leave your old life behind. You wouldn't make it through the training alive otherwise."

"Really?"

"Shut it blacksmith," Her voice had a warning edge. "The House of Black and White doesn't just let its secrets out. Dig too deep and you'll have a grave prepared the next day. Mine included."

It was silent after that and Gendry turned his back to her, shivering into his furs. After a while she let out a soft sigh and he assumed she had fallen asleep. So it nearly caused him to panic when she started shifting restlessly against his back, hitting and kicking for the longest time. None of the attacks hurt in anyway, but stopped him from finding any rest.

And then her arms were wrapping around his waist, pulling her body flush against his back. She nuzzled her face between his shoulder blades and he could feel her breath against his neck. What made it worse was when she forced a leg between his own and curled even closer to his body, making him increasingly aware that he was sharing a small tent with a woman. The swell of her breast made it obvious that she was no girl.

A cross between a moan and a growl passed her lips and it made Gendry realize that it had been nearly six moons since he had been this close to a girl. He blushed and tried to force her arms off of him, least she wake up and kill him. Distantly he wondered if asking more about the Faceless Men would have given him a swift death compared to the torture that he would go through come the morrow. Though, now felt like more of a personal hell than any he was sure that she could think up.

He knew that the next five days just may be the longest he'd ever live to see. If he lived that long.


End file.
